“Look after people?”
“Lots of people. All sorts.” A queer smile had played about the corners of his mouth.
She had not pressed the question further. But now, standing there looking out into his city at night, she whispered, “His name was Drew Lane. Wonder if I’ll ever see him again? I hope so. He seemed a nice boy, and I should love to know how he looks after ‘lots of people—all sorts.’”
She looked again at the many lighted windows. Suddenly those who toiled there seemed very near to her. She found a strange comfort in this.
“I, too, must do my best,” she told herself. “God help me to be wise and strong, helpful to others and kind to all!” she prayed as she gave herself over to sleep.
She was wakened at dawn by a whisper. At first, so closely did dream life blend with the life of day, it seemed natural that she should be listening to this whisper. When she had come into full consciousness she sprang out of bed with a start.
“Good morning!” The words came in slowly, a distinct whisper. “We hope you are happy this morning. Cheerio! That’s the word!”
“When you have dressed,” the whisper continued, “won’t you just step out into the little parlor and take a seat by the table? It will be good to have a look at your shining face.”
“Someone in my little parlor! I don’t like it. And that whisper!”
She dressed hurriedly, then stepped through the door. What sort of person had she expected to see? Probably she could not have told. What she did see was an empty room.